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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688630">no one who can match you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber'>Slumber</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SK8 the Infinity (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous Relationships, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Getting Together, M/M, Missing Scene, Relationship Study</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:34:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>It's like skating uphill, being with Kaoru.</p>
  <p>But fuck if the climb isn't exhilarating.</p>
</blockquote>In which Kojiro wouldn't have it any other way.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>414</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no one who can match you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kaoru’s bike is already parked in Kojiro’s driveway by the time he pulls up himself, Kaoru leaning against the door, lips pursed and Carla tucked under his arm.</p><p>“What happened to your key?”</p><p>“You weren’t here yet,” Kaoru says, gaze narrowing at him even as he takes the silver key out from somewhere in the folds of his yukata and unlocks the door for both of them. “Unlike your underdeveloped brain, I do have some manners.”</p><p>Kojiro laughs. “Yeah, sure,” he says, following Kaoru inside as he toes off his shoes, turns on the lights, and picks up the charger still plugged into the outlet next to the couch and connects that to Carla. He peels off his gloves and, with a deep sigh, begins undoing the wrapping on his arm.</p><p>“Here,” Kojiro says, taking the gloves from him. “I’ll get the bath going. You can go first.”</p><p>Kaoru hums, but he always goes first. Sometimes, if he’s in a good mood, he lets Kojiro go with him, but tonight’s probably not one of those nights. He looks up as Kojiro’s coming out of the bathroom, and frowns. “What happened to you?”</p><p>“Huh?” Kojiro follows his gaze down to his side, where an interesting bruise is beginning to form. That’s odd—he didn’t even wipe out tonig—oh. He chuckles. “You don’t recognize your own handiwork?”</p><p>“What? I didn’t—” Kaoru stops abruptly, color rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t kick you <em>that</em> hard!”</p><p>“Your shoes are custom-made, aren’t they?” Kojiro asks, patting at the bruise and maybe, perhaps, wincing a little extra hard. “Wow. That did a number on me, huh.”</p><p>“No, it didn’t—” Kaoru lets out a frustrated sound, storming off into the kitchen and yanking open the freezer to take out one of the ice packs Kojiro usually keeps there. “Sit.”  </p><p>“I was gonna make us some foo—”</p><p>
  <em>“Sit.” </em>
</p><p>Kojiro sits. </p><p>Kaoru flops down in front of him, pressing the ice pack suddenly against his side and, when Kojiro yelps and tries to flinch away, grabbing him by the arm to keep him in place. “That’s what you get,” he says, golden eyes flashing.</p><p>“For what? Calling you by your name?” </p><p>“Not at ‘S’. You know better than that.”</p><p>“It was a slip of the tongue,” Kojiro protests, interested in the way Kaoru’s brow knits as he studies the bruise. It really doesn’t feel that bad, but guilt’s kind of a good look on him. “I got like five different things I’m supposed to call you, you know what my pea-sized brain is like. Hard to keep ’em straight sometimes, you know.”</p><p>“Don’t be a smartass,” Kaoru mutters darkly, his fingers light but warm on Kojiro’s skin as he skims them. “Did I—did you get hurt anywhere else?”</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” he says. “Bath’s probably ready by now. You should go.”</p><p>Kaoru purses his lips. “You can go first. Might help.”</p><p>“Or,” Kojiro says, leaning closer and wondering how far he’d be able to push his luck tonight. “We can go together?”</p><p>He can see the calculations taking place in Kaoru’s head right then—in the way he stills at the suggestion, how he worries at his bottom lip, the way his gaze flickers up to look at Kojiro through his lashes. </p><p>“M’not going if you’re not going,” Kojiro whispers, his lips brushing against the tender shell of Kaoru’s ear. “Either you go or we go.”</p><p><em>“Fine</em>, then,” he finally says, pulling Kojiro up to his feet.</p><p>Kojiro bites down his smile, following Kaoru to the bath. Maybe tonight’s one of those nights, after all. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kaoru falls asleep first—he always falls asleep first—curled against the dark green of Kojiro’s sheets, his long hair splaying outward like pink sunrays. One hand is pillowed on Kojiro’s chest, slender fingers nearly white against his tanned skin. The creases that usually line his face when he’s looking at Kojiro are gone, smoothened in sleep and peaceful in moonlight. </p><p>He’s quiet like this. Beautiful. Kojiro spends a little too long drinking in the sight, for the simple reason that he can. He doesn’t fuss about the lines between Kaoru and Sakurayashiki and Cherry Blossom, doesn’t have to wrinkle his nose when Kojiro says something meant to rile him up. He leans into the touch when Kojiro cups his cheek, lips parting with a soft sigh as Kojiro follows the curve of chin with the pads of his fingers.</p><p>Kaoru’s more honest like this. Less guarded. More open.</p><p>But not nearly as stunning. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“How much longer is it going to take?” Kaoru asks, wrinkling his nose as he crosses his arms. “I’m starving.”</p><p>Kojiro drizzles a bit of oil over the pan, the aroma filling the air nicely. “You said you weren’t hungry earlier.”</p><p>“I said I didn’t want pasta,” Kaoru mumbles. </p><p>“That’s right. Italian is too heavy, uninspired, and pedestrian,” Kojiro remembers, quoting Kaoru’s words back at him. “You sure don’t mind their wine, though.”</p><p>He doesn’t have to turn to see the guilty look flashing across Kaoru’s face. “I would’ve eaten earlier if you’d said it would take you a while to close up.”</p><p>“You were the reason it took me a while to close up,” he points out, pulling out two bowls and doling out the pan’s contents evenly between them. It’s only seafood stir fry, something he’d hastily pulled together from his fridge because he hadn’t expected Kaoru to show up, necessarily—simple and easy to make, artlessly plated. A dish even more pedestrian than his restaurant’s best-selling pasta. And yet— </p><p>“<em>You </em>were the one who wanted to talk to me about that rookie,” Kaoru reminds him, golden eyes glimmering before he gives thanks for the food and, ever mindful of his manners, waits for Kojiro to start before he digs in himself. His eyes flutter shut, lashes gentle against his cheeks, as he takes in the first mouthful with a happy hum that makes Kojiro’s stomach twist itself into knots.</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Kojiro says, unable to keep the teasing tone from his words. Kaoru has many complaints about Kojiro, but his cooking has never been one of them.</p><p>Kaoru flushes, swallowing down any other retort that may have found its way to the tip of his sharp tongue. It’s a sweeter concession than the cake Kojiro had been trying to perfect. </p><p>Agreement is an odd feeling between them, though, so from there the conversation shifts to familiar points of contention: why Kojiro refuses to write his recipe changes down; Kaoru’s over-reliance on Carla, who cannot possibly, actually know everything; whether or not Kojiro’s mismatched collection of furniture is carelessly charming or an assault on the senses. </p><p>“If you’ve got such a problem with my place,” Kojiro says after Kaoru’s rinsed the dishes and set them on the rack, “maybe we should head over to yours, then.”</p><p>“And have you make a mess of my kitchen?” </p><p>Kojiro snorts, walking up behind Kaoru as he dries his hands on a hand towel. “You’re supposed to use kitchens,” he reminds him, winding his hand through Kaoru’s ponytail. He tugs, gentle, licks his lips at the way Kaoru’s breath hitches audibly, the way his nose flares ever so slightly. </p><p>But he tips his head back just enough for Kojiro’s lips to find his, to taste the spices still on his tongue, hot and pliant, eager, as he turns around and slender arms wind around Kojiro’s shoulders.</p><p>He supposes he <em>could</em> just make a mess of Kaoru tonight. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They’d never gotten along, not even at the beginning. </p><p>Kojiro’s mother may have said something about the family that had moved in next door, but it meant nothing to Kojiro until he’d knocked a snot-nosed, pink-haired kid skinnier than he was at the park across their apartment unit, watching big honey-gold eyes shimmer all watery until the dam broke, and wobbly lips opened wide to let out a piercing wail.</p><p>“Why are you so <em>loud?</em>” Kojiro had asked with all the insensitivity of a child, yelping when the crying abruptly stopped and he was pounced upon, baby teeth chomping down on his arm.</p><p>They were sporting an assortment of cuts and bruises and bite marks by the time their mothers found them, and it did not get any better over the years that followed—not even when both of them started getting into skateboarding. </p><p>By then fighting came to them as easy as breathing, and competing with each other over learning the latest trick or reaching home first was a natural progression of their rivalry. Kaoru had always been the smarter of the two, but Kojiro the more athletic, and they divided their classmates’ attention between them, arguing over the rest, conceding not a single inch and scrapping for every win.</p><p>It’s like skating uphill, being with Kaoru. Every decision challenged, every action put to the test. Kojiro’s never been so driven, never had to work so hard, never felt compelled to do more—to <em>be</em> more—without the fire Kaoru lit in him. </p><p>And fuck if the climb isn’t exhilarating. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They don’t talk about it—with the cops’ sudden arrival, there’s no time to talk—but Kaoru follows Kojiro home, anyway, pulling up just behind him as he hops out of his bike and walks up to his front door to let them both in. </p><p>“You think they’re fine?” Kaoru asks once Carla’s plugged in and his wraps are undone, shaking his ponytail loose and sinking into Kojiro’s couch.</p><p>“Are you concerned? Doesn’t sound like you,” Kojiro teases, getting an irritated <em>tsk</em> back in response.</p><p>“That rookie doesn’t look like he’d have the presence of mind to run when he should. It would be a shame if he got booked—or worse, grounded—before we saw more of him.”</p><p>“He’ll be fine,” Kojiro says, shuddering as a chill all of a sudden runs through his spine. “That redhead went after him. They’ll be—”</p><p>“You’re shivering.” Kaoru’s gaze narrows, his arms crossed as he looks Kojiro up and down. “You know it’s getting colder at night lately.”</p><p>Kojiro shrugs. “Never been a problem before. I’m pretty well-insulated,” he says, before the chill catches him again and he sneezes, disproving his own argument. </p><p>Kaoru sighs, deep and heavy. “You are such a—” he starts, muttering under his breath as he drags himself out of the couch, disappearing into the hallway leading to Kojiro’s room and taking the rest of his sentence with him. He returns not long after, arms full of the blankets Kojiro keeps in storage, marching over and draping them around his shoulders. He clicks his tongue, disapproval heavy as he says, “You know the shirtless look is also so incredibly tacky.”</p><p>“And yet it doesn’t stop you from looking.” Kojiro reaches for Kaoru’s arm, tugging him until he’s pressed up against his chest, gaze blazing with fury and the whole of his face—from the tips of his ears to the flush of his chest—just as fiery. “Come warm me up instead.”</p><p>“Do you even hear yourself?” Kaoru asks with a sneer, stepping back though his blush refuses to fade. “<em>I</em> am taking a shower. You can take one after.”</p><p>“Oh, fine, if that’s how you want to play it,” Kojiro says, grinning as he falls back on the couch, bundled up in blankets. “I can wait.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The first time Kaoru won a beef against Kojiro—midway through their second year of high school, not long after they started skating with Shindo—a week’s worth of lunches had been on the line.</p><p>“You never said where the meals should come from,” Kojiro said, grabbing Kaoru by the wrist and dragging him up to the roof, away from the cafeteria, before he presented him with a three-stack containing a dozen rice balls.</p><p>“Do you think I’ll eat <em>twelve</em> of these?” Kaoru screeched before looking at the lunch box more closely and wondering, “Did you make them yourself?”</p><p>Kojiro was already halfway through his own lunch, but he flashed him a wide grin. “S’different types, too. For variety.”</p><p><em>“Cheapskate,” </em>Kaoru grumbled, but after eating a third of them—the absolute most he could—he refused to give Kojiro any of his leftovers. (“This is <em>my</em> lunch,” he’d hissed, packing them away, box and all, to take home with him.)</p><p>They ended up at Kojiro’s house when Kaoru demanded something less basic after his third day of receiving rice balls, Kaoru rattling off his demands over the counter while Kojiro chopped vegetables on the other side, bickering over which things made sense to put together for lunch. </p><p>“Why don’t you <em>try</em> it first?” Kojiro finally asked, shoving a piece of supposedly bland sesame chicken at Kaoru and watching with satisfaction as his initial bluster and annoyance faded into thoughtful consideration.</p><p>“Oh,” Kaoru said, chewing carefully before swallowing the food down, brow knitting, lips pursed. </p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Fine. I guess. Chicken works.”</p><p>It didn’t stop him from questioning Kojiro’s culinary decisions every step of the way—not the next day, or the day after, or the one after that—and if anything, he only grew nosier and fussier, moving from the other side of the countertop to hover behind Kojiro as he prepared their lunches.</p><p>“Curry? Really?” Kaoru asked the evening before the last day of that week, nose wrinkling. </p><p>“Why? Were you expecting something more special?” Kojiro wanted to know, biting down on the smile that threatened to burst at the sight of Kaoru flushing beside him. </p><p>“Just seems like you’re phoning it in so near the end,” he said, leaning back when Kojiro held a ladle up to him.</p><p>“Have I ever slowed down so close to the finish line?” Kojiro let Kaoru taste the spoonful of curry sauce for himself. “It’s based on my grandma’s recipe, but I changed it up a little. What do you think?”</p><p>Kaoru didn’t answer, but the look on his face said enough.</p><p>Kojiro grinned, smug. “Don’t you trust me yet when it comes to this?”</p><p>“Well—” Kaoru hedged, and when Kojiro met his gaze he couldn’t help noting the bit of curry on the corner of his lips. </p><p>He couldn’t help, either, the way he reached out to wipe it away with his thumb, nor the way his touch lingered on Kaoru’s cheek after.</p><p>Kaoru’s lips parted so naturally then, light catching on the metal of his lip ring, a beacon gleaming so bright Kojiro couldn’t help but follow.</p><p>So he did, leaning close to brush their lips together with all the foolhardiness of leaping to the skies, pulse skipping a beat for that rush of a moment, heart in throat and adrenaline like lightning in his veins. Kaoru froze beneath his touch in that same split second when the world held itself still and it was just skater and skateboard suspended in the sky, but gravity handled the rest and he, too, allowed the pull of it to drag him down, hands winding around Kojiro’s waist, digging into the fabric of his shirt and yanking him closer.</p><p>“Come over tomorrow too,” Kojiro told him after.</p><p>“You wish,” came Kaoru’s response.</p><p>But he hadn’t missed a day since.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“So much for a relaxing bath, huh?” Kojiro sighs, massaging his temple as he watches the kids disappear into their shoddy inn. The stink of whatever it was they’d been coated in still hangs heavy in the surrounding air, and he isn’t sure there’s any amount of soap and shampoo that can wash all of it away.</p><p>“Had this been a holiday and not a business trip, I’d have ensured my own inn had their own baths,” Kaoru mutters, sniffing his shoulder and making a face. He hops off Carla, foot barely making a sound as it hits the ground, and raises an eyebrow when Kojiro follows him into the inn.</p><p>“What.”</p><p>Kaoru scoffs. “No groupie to mooch off of tonight?”</p><p>“I can afford this inn on my own, you know,” he says, crossing his arms.</p><p>“That’s not what’s in question.” Kaoru turns down the hallway, his long ponytail swishing abruptly as he does. “What with your reputation on the line, and all.”</p><p>Kojiro tilts his head to the side, following the stiff set of Kaoru’s shoulders and the slight sway of his hips. “You know my fan club has rules about that,” is what he says.</p><p>“Oh, of course, pardon me,” Kaoru says, glancing at Kojiro over his shoulder. “Can’t do something as undignified as break a fan club rule.”</p><p>“Their rules, not mine.” Kojiro holds up his hands, keeps his smile guileless, even if he is far more amused than he’s letting on. “Well, if that’s all, then. I guess I’m gonna—”</p><p>“I have a 12-tatami mat room,” Kaoru abruptly says. </p><p>“Oh?” </p><p>“It’s the best one here, since the owners requested my business.”</p><p>It’s as far as he’ll go. Kojiro grins. That’s no problem. “Don’t think I had a good look at it earlier, come to think of it. Maybe you should give me a tour,” he says, meeting Kaoru halfway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated ♥</p><p>If you liked what you've read, you can <a href="https://twitter.com/slumberish/status/1364771849851310081">share the tweet here</a>. I've also written <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber/works?fandom_id=52382346">other Matcha Blossom fic</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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